


the dandelion house [On Hiatus]

by uncontrollablesobbing_mp3



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Angst, F/M, Paranormal AU, What Have I Done, Yikes, but go off i guess, give these bois a hug, into the rabbit hole we gooooooo, like hardcore angsting, your author is sleep deprived
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-04 09:59:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14590551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uncontrollablesobbing_mp3/pseuds/uncontrollablesobbing_mp3
Summary: “You have to help us! We didn’t choose to be this way!”“I’m trying not to end up like you!”“It’s already too late. You’re toast.”“Oh yeah? You and what... how...were you sitting on that the whole time?!”[this story is on hiatus until i can get my shit together, sorry y’all!]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoy!! more chapters coming soon!  
> -simon

Anthony figured that it probably wasn’t a good sign the realtor refused to meet him on the grounds of the house. 

The Dandelion House was a two-thousand-square-foot mansion, called by most accounts the “owl’s nest”, “shrieker’s sepulcher”, and various other horribly cryptic names that made one question what people were thinking when they named the place.

The price was ridiculously low for a house of that size, only $1,500. It was suspicious, sure, but he figured it was because there had been no renovations made in at least fifty years. 

The tour about the house was short, and the guide looked nervous and frazzled the entire time, muttering under her breath. Anthony didn’t ask, the house was old and creaky and gave off a horror-movie vibe that didn’t shake him, even after he left the grounds, a distant chill making the hairs on his arms stand up.

He would have normally passed it off and searched for something different, but as creepy as it was, the house drew him in. He bought the place, and within less than a week (and surprisingly little paperwork) he was the owner of 204 Dandelion Avenue.

Moving in was, once again, surprisingly easy. He didn’t have much stuff, and the furniture that came with the house was a little dusty, but he made it work. 

He had a yard now, something strange and unfamiliar to him, as he’d lived in the city all his life. The yard was overgrown, grass and dandelions growing freely, bushes untrimmed and a tall willow tree spilling over a small pond, the surface covered in algae and housing mosquitoes and water bugs alike. In the back of the property, hidden by the shade of tall birches, was a worn-down shed, covered in flowering honeysuckle. He took a look at it, but whenever he got close, the chill came back, more intense than when he had taken the tour.

_Go away_.

He’d whipped around, but there was no one there. The voice had been right up against his ear, and when he looked back at the shed, three blossoms fell from the honeysuckle.

Over the course of a week living there, he took notice of more things. 

The house made lots of noise all by itself.

The dishes in the kitchen clinked, the stairs creaked, the walls groaned with the breeze. 

However, there were things that he heard that had no explanation. He swore he heard music coming from the kitchen, but nothing was there. There were footsteps down the main hall at night, shouting outside, a muted scream somewhere near the bathroom. Whenever he heard any of these, he curled himself up the best he could and pulled out his phone.

_I bought this house myself, no way I’m going back to that shitty apartment._

It was unavoidable, however, when he saw the apparition.   
He awoke one night, throat dry, from some vague dream that made no sense in the slightest. He wandered down the stairs, into the old kitchen to get a glass of water. Or whiskey. At this point, he just wanted to go back to sleep. This house was scaring the shit out of him, honestly, and Anthony was just about done with it. 

He was in the kitchen, pouring a glass of water from the tap, when he heard a faint tapping sound from the hall. He froze. What if someone had broken in?  
He tiptoed down the hall, the tapping sound getting louder as he approached the small hall closet. The doorknob was rattling in its place, and Anthony shuddered.

_Okay, stay calm, maybe it’s just… the wind? Or something? It’s not fuckin’ ghosts. Noooope, definitely not ghosts.  
_

He hesitantly reached out, grabbed the handle, twisted, and pulled as hard as he could. The door swung open to reveal… nothing. 

“Fuckin’ damnit…” he muttered. “At least let there be something!” He stared into the depths of the closet, waiting for something, anything to appear. 

And then they were there. Two shining deep blue orbs, level with his eyes, peering at him from the darkness. A wave of cold rushed over his skin. The orbs grew closer, forming into something.. Familiar. It was a figure, he realized, of someone. He, of course, had no clue who the fuck it was. 

So, he did the smart thing.

He turned and ran.


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go! chapter two! hope you enjoy!  
> three’ll be up within the week, hopefully!  
> -simon

It took him a while to notice the sheer amount of apparitions he probably had seen in a normal day.

Okay, now he was sure there were ghosts in the house, but, well, he wasn’t sure there was just one. He’d hear something creaking in the kitchen, and then something else thumping down the stairs. Of course, this could also be an effect of no sleep whatsoever, but Anthony didn’t think his mind could make all of it up.

He tried talking to whatever was in the closet in the morning the night after the apparition, but he didn’t hear or see anything. He yelled a couple general greetings to anything in the house, but the only thing he got was the echo of his own voice.

So, he waited for the night.

The sun was painting the last streaks of purple and orange in the sky when he sat down by the little hall closet, the door propped open just a crack.

“Okay. I know I kinda screamed and ran last night…” he trailed off, sighing as he gathered up his courage again. “...but I know you’re here and I want to talk.”

Silence.

“I don’t know if it’s just you doing this, you… uh… in the closet… but if you are, you’re pretty fucking terrifying…”

No response.

“God, this is really dumb.”

The hinges on the door squeaked. He jumped and swore. “Don’t test me, you paranormal whore!”

Anthony swore he heard laughter from one of the front rooms. “Are you fucking laughing at me?” he muttered, frantically flipping on the flashlight on his phone. He swung it around, the beam tracking across the hall, finally landing on the sad-looking wooden door. There was a whisper, something chattering in the dark that left a feeling of dread creeping up his spine.

_Turn that off!_

It was right in his ear again. He spun around, pointing the beam where the speaker should have been. Nothing. The words then caught in his brain. He reluctantly turned the flashlight off and waited.

“What now?”

The door to the closet creaked and clicked shut. Something icy cold dragged over his shoulders, away from the closet. He shivered.

_The parlor. Come with me._

“Who ARE you?”

Another ghostly whisper, fading out of hearing. At the end of the hall, two blue orbs glowed.

“Damnit.”

 

The parlor was one of the most decorated rooms in the house. There was an old beige couch that was covered in dust in one corner, with suspicious-looking reddish-brown stains on the wall, all the way up to the dartboard. The colors on the board were faded, but were probably once red and green, and a single red-feathered dart was in the board, in the bullseye. A high-backed leather chair sat in the other corner, paired with a side table that had a green-shade reading lamp and a red clay ashtray balanced precariously on it. There were two bookshelves that stretched all the way up to the ceiling, and the books it contained looked as though they’d fall apart at any second.The other parts of the walls were covered with photographs or paintings, all of which seemed unfamiliar. There were a few stray pillows and cushions strewn about, and they matched the carpet in pattern- red with green and gold accents. The room was clearly older than Anthony by a few decades, and feeling of dread that had been creeping up and down his spine came to rest at the pit of his stomach.

“Okay, you told me to come in here, what do you want?” He asked tentatively, standing in the center of the room. He then heard someone giggle distinctly, someone else shush them.

“Wha-”

_You know we’re here?_

“...well, yeah, you’re kinda hard to ignore.”

_Say it._

“What?”

_SAY IT!_

“SAY WHAT?!”

_SAY YOU KNOW THAT WE’RE HERE!_

“I KNOW YOU’RE HERE!”

What happened next was like a kick to the face. The lights flickered wildly, wind blew, and the pictures on the wall rattled in their frames. A few books fell off the bookshelf. And then he was there. He was pale, so pale he looked almost blue. His eyes were the same deep blue that he saw in the closet, and his deep brown hair was hidden under a round black bowler hat. He wore an old-fashioned suit, vest and all, an empty serving dish in one hand and a pleated towel in the other. His clothing was immaculate and he wore a polite smile that lit up as soon as he saw him.

“ _Hey! Welcome to the house!_ ” The apparition grinned wildly, extending his hand as the serving dish disappeared from it. Even though he was right in front of him, his voice was tinny and far away. “ _Glad to have you here!_ ”

Anthony reluctantly extended his own, and the apparition went to shake his hand, but then frowned as it passed straight through. “ _Awh shucks… sorry, force of habit._ ” Anthony recoiled, and the apparition laughed, but then sighed and pressed a palm to his forehead. “ _Where are my manners! My name is Scott, but everyone calls me Scotty. I’d shake your hand if I could, you seem like a proper gentleman._ ”

“Uh… I’m Anthony, just moved in-”

“ _Oh, we know all that, tell us somethin’ interesting!_ ” Scotty scoffed, settling down onto the couch. “ _Tell me, have y’ever been to India?_ ” Anthony plopped down next to him, sending up a plume of dust, and shook his head. Scotty sighed in relief. “ _Good. Only one of us has, and the one in question-_ ” He glared at a cushion a few feet away. “ _-won’t shut up about it.”_

Anthony heard a distant yell and laughter, and he smiled nervously. “I guess… I’ve never met a ghost before.”

“ _Well, it’s a pleasure t’meet you too! Do you want to meet some of the others?_ ”

Anthony sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Sure…?”

Scotty smiled. He made a cutting motion towards his throat and then looked straight at him “ _If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. They can’t hear us right now._ ”

Anthony sighed. “It’s a lot to take in…” To be honest, his mind was reeling. He was speaking directly to a ghost! He had full proof of the paranormal in front of him! _What did they see when they looked at the world around them? Did any of them know what a phone was? How did all of them die?! Could they move on? Did they even think they were dead?!?_ “...but I think I can handle it.” He guesses his curiosity will be the death of him.

“ _Okay, cool. Well, there’s one more part to it._ ” Scotty looked vaguely nervous.

“Part?! What is this, some 10-step program?”

Scotty chuckled, but then coughed. “ _It’s not that difficult we just…_ ” He cleared his throat. “ _..we have to show you one of our deaths so you can see all of us here._ ”

Anthony looked (and felt) appropriately scared. “ _Don’t worry, we picked the least physically painful one for you, plus… you’ll kinda see it eventually, we can’t help it after a few weeks._ ”

Anthony sighed. “Let me meet whoever it is first, at least?”

“Alright! I’ll see you once you come back! Here’s Brian, he’s pretty friendly!” Scotty’s form dissolved into fog, which quickly reformed into another man, dressed in a sharp-looking black suit, an untied black silk tie slung around his neck. He had an empty champagne glass in his hand, and bore a charming smile. He didn’t look nearly as blue as Scotty did, his hair was a few shades lighter, and his eyes looked almost green, but were still pretty much blue.

“Nice to meet ya.” Brian’s voice was different. He had an Irish twinge to it, but he also sounded closer, felt closer than Scotty’s. “Ready t’go?”

“Sure. Let’s do this.” Brian extended his hand, palm up, to Anthony.

Anthony reached out before stopping suddenly. “How did you die, again?”

Brian let out a hearty chuckle before shrugging at him. “Guess you’ll have’ta find out.”

_Goddamn cryptic ghosts._

Anthony took his hand. His world was a whirl of color and sound. He felt dizzy, he was spiraling down, down, down- Everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooooo, spooooooky~  
> how did brian die? let me know what you think!  
> -si


	3. three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait! stuff came up, but now that my life is a little calmer, chapter four should be up in about a week! thanks for reading!  
> -si

Anthony came to in the parlor, but something was off.

He felt lighter, like all of his insides had disappeared. He looked down at himself, and was surprised to see that he, well, wasn’t himself.

_Don’t worry, you’re just reliving my last memory- nothing’s gonna really hurt you. You’re seeing through my eyes._ Brian’s voice echoed in his- their?- head. Anthony just let it go and watched.  
Past-Brian flung the parlor doors open, a medley of greetings on his tongue, as about twenty people streamed in, laughing, chatting, and fooling around.

_The year is 1962._

The people streaming in looked (and almost radiated) wealth and prestige- the men were all dressed in sharp-looking suits with muted colors (save a few who wore plaid patterns or something else of the sort). On many of their arms were women in dresses of various colors. Some wore gloves, others necklaces of diamond that glittered like stars. Past-Brian, however, had his eyes fixed on one woman in particular, with dark hair and tanned skin. She wore a diamond patterned black-and-white lace dress, a pair of black gloves on her hands, and a ring glittering on her left hand. She held onto the arm of a rather tall man, who locked eyes with Past-Brian before pulling her off to another corner of the room.

_I’m hosting a party after the release of a film._

Past-Brian tried to navigate his way towards her, but ended up caught in conversation with another gentleman. Brian chose then to narrate over the memory.

_I’d been hosting parties like this for months, with her on the guest list every time… She hated her husband, and she came to me when he wasn’t treatin’ her right. We were gonna move out, elope to Las Vegas or some shit, anywhere but here, but then… well, you’ll see._

The memory swirls, and suddenly, Past-Brian’s standing in front of the woman’s husband. He can feel the worry seeping in as he spoke. He turned desperately to a young man carrying a tray of champagne, and snagged a glass for himself and another for his compatriot. He held out the glass, trying to steady his hands. The husband took the glass, clinked it against Past-Brian’s, and the two drank. The husband clapped him on the shoulder, congratulated him on the film, and walked off. Past-Brian shuddered and scanned the room, his eyes landing on the woman. He downed the rest of the champagne and walked over.

“Lanai, could I borrow you for just a minute?”

She smiled and took his arm. “Absolutely.”

They walked out of the parlor, into the hall. As soon as they were out, he locked lips with her, wrapping his arms around her. She tangled her hands in his hair.  
Anthony could tell they were in love.  
The two finally separated, and Lanai giggled. “Tonight.”

“T-tonight? Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. I can’t stand it anymore. I don’t love him, I love you.”

Past-Brian’s heart raced. “Okay. Tonight, then. Meet me in the garage at midnight.” He pressed a quick kiss to her lips and fixed his hair, letting her go in to the party. He straightened his tie, took a deep breath, and walked back in.  
Brian sighed in his head.

_I should’ve known better.  
_

Anthony noticed that out of the corner of his- their- eye, he saw Lanai’s husband in the corner, a fistful of the server’s shirt in his hand. He looked vicious, and the server looked terrified. Past-Brian, however, paid no mind, as he picked up another glass of champagne and flicked the glass with his nails, essentially calling the room’s attention. He proceeded to launch into a speech, something lengthy, flowery, filled with praise about his fellow actors (and himself) in the film.

As he spoke, Anthony could feel (and he assumed Past-Brian felt) pain creeping up from his stomach, up through his heart, up into his lungs. His speech stuttered, and something inside him seized.

The world tipped, and he fell backwards onto the floor.

There was screaming, but it was all far away, and the pain was everywhere. It made Anthony want to yell, but the pain was crawling up his throat, ripping away at his throat. Every breath that rattled through his lungs hurt.

He was vaguely aware of someone sweeping Past-Brian up and put him down on the couch. Lanai was there, she was gone, her husband was there, she was back. She was crying, _why’s she crying?_

“La-lanai…”

“I’m right here, Brian,” she choked out through tears. She smiled and wiped the sweat from his forehead with a kerchief. “I’m not going anywhere, don’t you worry.”

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” he whispered, clutching onto her wrist as the pain spiked up to his brain.

The lights were dimming. As darkness fell around him, he saw Lanai break down into sobs. He held onto her hands.

_I’m so sorry, Lanai. I love you._

The lights winked out for Past-Brian.  
Anthony, however, was another story. He was engulfed in the dark, but suddenly, Brian was there. Held aloft in his hand was a glass of champagne. He glowed a golden color, but the champagne looked almost green, and he realized it was slowly spreading up his arm.

“ **Drink to me and remember my name.** ” Brian boomed, extending the glass out to Anthony.

He reluctantly took the glass from him, and peered into the greenish contents. They fizzed dangerously, like something out of a child’s chemistry set.

“ _Drink it, Anthony. It’s the only way out_.” Brian’s voice echoed from.. somewhere, Anthony couldn’t tell. He sighed and chugged down the contents. He could feel it bubble all the way down, but it didn’t taste like anything. A warm feeling washed over him, and his world went black.

Brian’s voice rang in his ears.

“ _ **Thank you. Welcome to the house.”**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fantastic guess by GreyMonkey, they basically nailed it! let me know what you think! thanks for reading!  
> -si


End file.
